Morning Kiss
by lu.chan93
Summary: The sound and smell of coffee brewing roused a slightly hungover Harry Potter from his slumber. He groaned, reaching a hand out to the other side of the bed for his bedmate… empty. The place next to him was cold, indicating that said bedmate had been up for a while. Or gone. Harry's heart gave a squeeze, and his brilliant emerald eyes snapped open, grogginess replaced with anxiety.


**This work was inspired by fanart from dorisdoris on deviantart. The title of the art is "Morning Kiss," hence the title of my fic. Please go and check out her work, it's absolutely beautiful! LOOOOOTS of Drarry ;3**

Also: This fic has subtle (then very obvious) themes of dominance and submission; mild name calling; whore, cockslut, collaring, LIGHT momentary breath play, etc. Nothing extreme. NSFW. Explicit. Two guys fucking. If any of this offends you, turn back now. You have been warned.

That being said, please enjoy your show.

The sound and smell of coffee brewing roused a slightly hungover Harry Potter from his slumber. He groaned, reaching a hand out to the other side of the bed for his bedmate… empty. The place next to him was cold, indicating that said bedmate had been up for a while. Or gone. Harry's heart gave a squeeze, and his brilliant emerald eyes snapped open, grogginess replaced with anxiety.

"Malfoy?" Harry called hoarsely, and cleared his throat before attempting again. "Malfoy? Where are you?"

He put his feet on the cold wood floor, blinking away the sleep.

That's right, Harry thought. We went to my flat after that fight…

Harry had gone with a few mates to a party, grudgingly, at his friend Hermione's behest. He honestly hadn't felt up to any socializing. It had been a month since he and Malfoy had split up. He couldn't even remember what the initial fight was about, but it spiraled out of control quickly; lots of yelling, lots of swearing, and later, lots of crying. Harry had had doubts. It's natural to in the beginning of a relationship. But his went beyond that. He was always worried about what Malfoy's friends thought, what Malfoy's parents thought, how he wasn't good enough or rich enough or smart enough or well-dressed enough to be dating one of the richest and most talented wizards in Great Britain. It was all over Witch Weekly; apparently the Chosen One shacking up with a former death eater, as well as the heir to the entire Malfoy Estate, was quite the buzz. Malfoy told him from the beginning that he didn't give two fucks what other people thought. It only mattered to him what Harry thought, and it should only matter to Harry what Draco thought. Harry's head knew that, but his heart couldn't see the sense. And that night, Harry's self doubt went too far, and he broke up with Draco "for his own good." Draco yelled; Harry screamed. Harry broke down sobbing on the floor; Draco left. He never knew the sound of a closing door could break his heart.

For the past three weeks, Harry had been going through the motions; going to work, working cases, going to functions, appearing for interviews. But his friends saw the life had left his eyes, and saw his spiral into depression. On the fourth week, Hermione declared NO MORE, and forced him to go to a party with Ron, herself, Neville, and Luna. He grumbled and refused, but Hermione wouldn't hear any of it.

"I thought you'd be like that, Harry," she sighed exasperatedly, then her face split into a calculating smile that always gave Harry chills. "Which is why I took precautions." Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out something small and golden. Harry gasped, his eyes going wide as he realized what was in her hand. His snitch.

"Hermione!" He exclaimed. "How did you even get that?"

"I figured you'd be a clotpole, so I broke into your apartment last night and stole this from your nightstand. I'll give it back, Harry, don't you worry. But only if you come to this party." Her expression grew serious. "I know you don't want to, but it'll do you good. You can't wallow, Harry. It's not healthy." Harry exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes.

"I know, Hermione," he said softly, eyes downcast. "Nothing is appealing anymore. It's like, ever since…" His voice broke momentarily. "All the color has gone out of the world, Hermione." His eyes began to water, and he met hers, which seemed a bit misty, as well.

"I know, Harry. I know. But you can't just lock yourself in your apartment when you're not on the job. Nothing will ever change that way."

And so he went.

As the five of them began walking up the steps, Harry started to have misgivings. But just as he began to open his mouth to say something to Hermione, Luna opened the door, and before he knew it they were inside. Too late now. Ron and Neville split off to get drinks for everyone, and Luna started searching the corners of each room for nargles. Hermione gave Harry's hand a reassuring squeeze, and began to guide him from room to room. He nodded and forced smiles at people who waved at him or clapped his back, and when the two of them got to the dance floor, his heart stopped and his legs turned into lead.

There were two fantastic dancers on the floor, swaying to the beat, owning the stage. One of those was Draco. A lump formed in Harry's throat, and his skin turned to ice. When he saw Draco's fingers skim across the other dancer's hips provocatively, saw the young, darked haired man arch back into Draco's touch, he became unfrozen all at once. Before Hermione even had time to realize what was going on, Harry lurched onto the dance floor, grabbed Malfoy by the scruff of his shirt, growled, "we need to talk," and didn't even stop to take in those slate grey eyes widen in surprise before dragging Malfoy around the house until they found an empty room.

"Potter, what the hell do you think you're doin- mmf," Malfoy was cut off by Harry's assault on Draco's mouth with his own.

"What am I doing?" Harry hisses between onslaughts. "What the bloody hell-" -kiss- "do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" Harry pauses for breath. "Touching him like that. Like you used to touch me." His voice catches at the last word, followed by an unsteady breath.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Malfoy says with an incredulous expression as he runs his fingers through his now disheveled platinum locks. "You're the one who broke up with me, Potter, remember?" Malfoy spat, pushing Harry away enough so he could think clearly. "You're the one who gave that up. I have the right to touch whoever I want, however I want. What are you playing at?"

Harry seemed to shrink several inches, his eye filling with tears. He looked down at his feet, shame and embarrassment staining his cheeks a hot, angry red.

"I know," he whispered brokenly. Draco softened, pulling Harry into his arms gently. At the touch, Harry broke down and began sobbing quietly into Draco's silk shirt. Draco pulled him in tighter, Harry's head fitting perfectly into the crook of the taller man's neck. Damn it, Draco thought as Harry's choked breaths ghosted across the skin of his neck, and a particular part of him hardened almost instantly, pressing into Harry's thigh quite obviously. Not now. Harry hiccupped and inhaled sharply, leaning back enough to look into Draco's eyes with a questioning, waiting, and maybe even hopeful look in his tear-filled eyes. Fuck, Draco thought one last time before claiming Harry's mouth in a gentle but passionate kiss. Harry whimpered into the Slytherin's mouth, and Draco was lost. He growled into the kiss and flipped them around, pinning Harry against the wall. The green-eyed man moaned, arching into Draco's body as the Slytherin laid claiming bites all along his victim's neck, grinding their hips together in a slow, methodical rhythm. "Draco," Harry half-moaned, clutching at his former boyfriend's shoulders for stability against the attack. "Can I…" Harry began, then hesitated. Draco paused, giving Harry room to think. "Can I suck it, Draco?" Harry ground into Draco pointedly, and the way he said Draco's name like a prayer nearly undid the blonde. He wound his fingers into Harry's raven tresses and tightened his grip until Harry gasped, his neck arched beautifully for Draco to devour. His silver eyes flashed with desire, and he bit down on Harry's adams-apple just firm enough to leave a bruise, just the way he knew Harry liked. He barely gave Harry time to moan before firmly but gently pushing Harry onto his knees.

"You've missed it, haven't you?" Draco murmured gruffly as Harry lovingly traced his fingers up his lover's thighs, hovering just above the prize he sought. Dark hair bounced fervently in agreement as thin fingers began unzipping Draco's pants, and he hissed in pleasure as those fingers touched his aching erection through his boxers. "Don't tease me, Harry," Draco commanded firmly, but the warmth in his voice belied any possible hostility. "It's been far too long since I've felt that hot mouth."

Harry groaned in assent as he slipped Draco's cock out into the open through the hole in his boxers. He stroked the length lovingly - no, worshipfully - and murmured, "just as thick as I remembered. Gods, Draco, I've missed this," before engulfing Draco's length in his mouth fully. Draco's pink lips parted in a hiss that morphed into a groan as Harry began sucking him like he was born for it.

"Fuck, Potter. I've forgotten what a whore you are for sucking my cock," he ground out as his fingers tightened in Harry's hair. Harry moaned around his shaft, sending ungodly vibrations from the tip of his dick right to his core. "Yeah," he murmured, "you're my little cockslut, aren't you, Potter? My little whore." Harry pulled off of Draco's dick with a loud pop and a moan long enough to groan a guttural "Fuck, yes," before devouring the cock before him like it was the last thing he'd ever get to do.

"Merlin's beard, Harry, I've missed this," Draco hissed as Harry began deepthroating him with relative ease. "Missed you," he continued, stroking his lover's raven locks tenderly, and he felt Harry return the gesture on his thighs, before pulling away, panting. Draco groaned his displeasure, but his cock throbbed with want at the sight before him. Harry, the fucking Chosen One, knees apart, hair even more disheveled than usual, that sensual pink mouth swollen and glistening with spit, his cheeks stained with desire, green eyes blown out to black with lust.

"Draco, please… I need you… I need to feel you inside me, claiming me… I can't take it much longer," Harry whimpered, scratching pink lines into Draco's chest.

"Fuck, Potter. You do know how to beg. But we can't do this here," Draco ground out unwillingly. All he wanted was to yank Potter's trousers down and take him in this closet, fuck who heard. "Let's get out of here."

"My place?" Harry asked, his eyes still burning with desire as he palmed himself absentmindedly from his place on the floor.

"Take us there," Draco ordered, and without another word, Harry stood up, grabbed Draco's hand and apparated them straight to his bedroom.

Harry's hands were on Draco's shirt, and buttons went flying in his haste. Draco shoved Harry's hands away and threw his shirt off, descending upon Harry's clothing. He grabbed the neck of Harry's shirt and yanked, and Harry heard a loud, long ripping sound that made his dick throb. They both hastily slipped out of their trousers, both almost falling once or twice in their haste. As soon as they were both naked, Draco grabbed Harry by the wrist and shoved him forcefully down on the bed, following him, letting his hands roam possessively over every inch of that creamy pale skin. Harry was arching into his touches, sighing and gasping and moaning with each caress like a man starved.

"Need you," Harry managed in a whisper, grabbing Draco's cock and reverently stroking it as he ground into Draco's hip.

"I know, baby," Draco chuckled, and reached for the bottle of lube that they always kept in the drawer of the nightstand. He was almost surprised it was still there. He heavily slicked two fingers before lining them up at Harry's entrance, teasing the man beneath him with gentle pushes on his opening. Harry almost growled at the hesitation, and Draco chuckled again before working both fingers slowly inside. Their eyes locked, and Harry's mouth fell open in a low, drawn out groan as Draco began scissoring open his entrance. "So fucking tight, Potter," Draco ground out, a light sheen of sweat beginning to cover his face from the effort of keeping such a slow pace, of not taking him there and then.

"Draco, please," Harry begged, his back arching beautifully, hips grinding into Draco's hand. "Please, I need you inside me. I need you now," he growled, looking at Draco with a wild expression. "If you don't," he whispered, "I might go mad." Draco's cock throbbed almost painfully, and a feral grin transformed his features. Slipping his fingers out of Harry's tight little hole, he used the excess lube to slick his dick, and he stroked it for a few moments, just watching Harry writhe in need beneath him. Oh, he had missed this. He grabbed Harry's hips and pulled the man toward him savagely, chuckling when Harry gave a little yelp, and lined himself up at his lover's entrance. He pushed the head in ever so slightly, hips thrusting just enough to tease Harry, and Harry growled again in frustration. Before he could say anything, Draco thrust harshly into him, bottoming out in one go. Harry screamed, and after regaining his wits from the sudden onslaught of tight heat, Draco grabbed Harry's legs just below the knee, pushing them forward and apart just enough to render Harry helpless, and to hit that spot that he knows his lover has been waiting for. Harry's mouth fell open in a wordless howl, his luscious lips forming the perfect "O" that made Draco want to bite those lips until they were bruised and swollen - well, even more than they already were.

"That's right, Potter," Draco growled, "you've missed this cock, haven't you?" Harry moaned in agreement, lifting his hips in time with Draco's thrusts. "So fucking tight, Potter. No one else has had you, have they? I can tell. Nothing else can compare."

"Fuck, Draco, yes. You're the only one," Harry cried out between gasps and moans, green eyes locking with slate, a pleading look shining through the lust. "I was so fucking stupid to push you away," he managed to huff out between thrusts. Draco's hand closed over Harry's throat, and the gryffindor nearly came just then. He gasped, his dick throbbing painfully as Draco's grip tightened just nearly too tight - that edge he had mastered long ago; he knew just how much pressure to apply to keep his lover hanging on the edge.

"You're mine, Potter, do you understand?" Draco barked, his thrusts speeding up. He could tell Harry was close from the yelps he was giving, the wild look in his eye, and the way he was clenching around Draco's cock. He wasn't far off either- he could feel his balls beginning to tighten. "Mine." With that final word, Draco bit into the flesh over Harry's heart, and they both came simultaneously, Harry coating his stomach with a scream, and Draco filling his lover's arse, pumping his release for a full minute before coming to a slow stop.

Draco leaned back enough to look into his lover's face, and sure enough, he had fucked Harry unconscious. He smiled softly before slowly disentangling himself from his Chosen One, scooting him up further on the bed, and crawling back in beside him. Harry cuddled into him in his sleep, tucking his head under Draco's chin with a contented sigh, and Draco wrapped his arms gently around his sleeping lover before following him into unconsciousness.

And thus Harry found himself alone in the morning. Part of him feared that Draco had taken off once the lust and alcohol had worn off in the morning. A big part. Just as he began to let his panic overtake him, he heard the faintest sounds of clinking dishes in the kitchen. He sighed heavily in relief, putting a hand to his chest while his heart returned from his bowels to its rightful place before slipping on a pair of pyjama bottoms and perching on the edge of the bed for a moment to gather his thoughts. Draco was still here. He hadn't run out on him. If Draco Malfoy stayed after a one-nighter, then he was probably waiting for Harry to wake up so they could talk, presumably about where they'd go from here. A soft, warm smile drifted across Harry's features as a plan formulated itself in his mind. He knelt down at the foot of his bed and pulled a small metal box from underneath. Taking a steadying breath, he flipped the clasps and opened the lid. Inside sat a much, much smaller box, and a simple, thin black leather collar. Harry caressed the small silver D-ring gently before pulling it, and the small box from its container, closing the lid, and pushing it back under the bed. He stood slowly, took another steadying breath, and padded into the kitchen. Draco was sitting in an armchair facing the window, slowly nursing a cup of coffee.

"Draco?" Harry called softly, putting his hands behind his back, but not so that it looked unnatural. "I woke up, and thought you'd gone." The blonde turned to his lover and smiled at Harry's disheveled sex/bed-head hair. It seemed to always be in varying degrees of that state.

"I may be known for my one night stands, Harry, but you were never one of them," Draco said simply, the warmth in his tone - and the use of his first name - bringing tears to the brim of Harry's eyes. Harry swallowed thickly before pulling a chair up to Draco's and sat on the edge, opening and closing his mouth several times, trying to find the right words.

"I know I made a mistake. I knew the moment you left; I was just too stubborn to see it."

Draco gave a snort, and Harry looked up sharply.

"I'm sorry, love. But everyone knows that the Boy Who Lived is nothing if not stubborn," Draco said with a laugh. Harry chuckled, himself. It was very true.

"I just… I put too much stock in what others thought. Honestly, Draco?" Harry locked eyes with the Slytherin. "I didn't think I was good enough. It seems stupid, I know. The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the bloke who defeated Voldemort, not good enough for a Malfoy?" Harry laughed darkly, and Draco leaned forward slightly in his seat, a slight frown settling over his features, but he remained silent, letting Harry talk. Sensing Harry's needs was something that Draco did well.

"I know it's stupid. I know," Harry repeated. "I've just been under the constant spotlight of the world, all my life. I didn't want to bring that down on you. I didn't want any of my fuck-ups further dragging your name through the mud. Not after things had just settled down after the war. They should have called me the Boy Who Fucks Up," Harry snorts derisively, and that's when Draco decided to intervene.

"Fucking hell, Potter, you are way too hard on yourself. You're human, Harry. Of course you're going to fuck up now and then. Merlin knows I have," Draco sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "But that's not your distinguishing feature," he continued with passion in his voice, leaning forward in his chair and locking eyes with Harry. "That's bollocks. You are fierce, you are loyal to a fucking fault, and your moral compass is even a bit too spot on for my liking," Draco finished with a chuckle, before his features resumed its former expression. "But you are not a fuck up. I mean, I'm a bloody Slytherin. I don't associate with fuck-ups, Potter." Draco grabbed Harry's free hand, startling him into looking up into the blonde's eyes. "I could never fall in love with a fuck-up, Harry," he said softly, his eyes shimmering with emotion. Harry swallowed back a sob, letting one tear roll down his cheek.

"Draco, I…" He began, and Draco sat back in his chair with a smirk as he let Harry collect his words. "I love you, too. Which is why I have something for you." Harry set the collar down behind him and put his hand in his lap, the little box held firmly in his palm. Draco gazed at Harry, eyes flicking from the man's face to his hands with barely concealed interest. After heaving a sigh, Harry bared the little box to his lover's eyes and snapped it open, revealing a thick silver band nestled in a dark green velvet cushion. It had no jewels or embellishments, other than a very faint engraving of a snake encircling the band, its mouth swallowing its tail. Draco's eyes grew wide, flicking from the ring to Harry's eyes, his mouth falling open slightly. He plucked the ring from the cushion gingerly, looking at it with awe shining in his eyes.

"Ourobouros?" He whispered, looking at Harry with an expression that could only be defined as love.

Harry nodded and replied just as softly, "I thought it fitting, since your fascination with the legend, and the fact that I want you to be mine, conceivably forever."

Draco's jaw dropped another inch.

"And…" Harry turned behind him and grabbed the collar, kneeled at Draco's feet and presented the collar to an entirely astounded Draco, "I want to be yours, conceivably forever."

With the shocked expression still on his face, Draco set down his coffee, slipped the ring onto his finger (it fit perfectly; of course it did), and took the collar from Harry's waiting hands.

"When did you do all this?" Draco asked as he caressed the supple leather with his fingertips, a tremor in his voice that sounded like he was dangerously close to crying.

"Several months ago, after that date we had in France. I was just too hung up on my insecurities to ever bring it up." If Draco didn't look so emotional, Harry might have gotten nervous at this point. After a few more moments of just staring dumbstruck into Harry's eyes, Draco silently fastened the collar around Harry's neck. He sat back for a moment to enjoy the beauty of the black leather against his lover's alabaster skin. Then, he abruptly hooked his finger into the D-ring of the collar and pulled Harry up and into his lap, claiming his lips in a loving, possessive, needy kiss.

"Fuck, I love you, Potter," Draco growled, resisting the urge to flip Harry over and fuck him on the armchair he was currently occupying.

"I love you too, Malfoy," Harry replied with what could almost be classified as a giggle. Draco pulled Harry into him for one last, long kiss before gently pushing him off of his lap.

"Refill my coffee, Love," Draco commanded in a much calmer tone than his erection would imply as he fiddled with the ring on his finger absentmindedly, handing the mug to Harry. Harry grinned, and replied a "Yes, Sir," before grabbing the collar of his lover's shirt and pulling him in for one more hard kiss. What could he say? He was a greedy sort. He then released his flustered Slytherin and padded to the coffee maker, mug in hand, a skip in his step.


End file.
